


My Boyfriend the Werewolf

by Ahmerst



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Knotting, M/M, Werewolves, also a warning for, and uh, rating will go up in future chapters as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:51:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2544884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahmerst/pseuds/Ahmerst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With summer break finally starting, Aoba figures there’s no better way to kick it off with his boyfriend than by camping in the woods. Alone. Even when it makes his boyfriend skittish. Nothing could possibly go wrong. Nothing at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Camping was fun, Aoba assured himself. Or it was supposed to be, what with how TV shows and commercials painted it as some idealic getaway from the real world filled with clear skies, warm sun, and still lakes. But now he was camping, and the reality was dark clouds, no sun to be seen, and a lake surface that was churning with the promise of a storm soon to come.

All of that had been fine, almost welcomed. But then his boyfriend had gone missing and all hopes of bad-weather cuddles had been thrown out the window.

Sure he hadn’t exactly been gone long enough to file a missing persons report, closer to forty eight minutes than forty eight hours, but when they’d been together only twelve short weeks, even five minutes apart could feel like decades.

Things would be fine, Aoba told himself as a gust plucked leafs from branches, his eyes narrowing as his bangs batted against his lashes. Ren was smart and strong, he’d proven that already. During the long and winding drive his sense of direction had been almost preternatural, and on the hike to their campsite he’d shouldered more than his fair share, and all without the hint of labored breath.

Aoba had hardly minded following behind, eyeing Ren’s broad shoulders and the back of his head as they walked. He’d even almost managed to remember half the facts about edible flora Ren had listed off on their trek. It just got a little hard to focus on the words when that monotone flatness of his voice was nearly hypnotizing.

Ren had even gone so far as to help Aoba set the tent up, his broad, warm palms covering Aoba’s hands, fitting and locking slats together, driving stakes into soft earth, stretching tarp to take form of a sheltering tent. There had been the slightest tremor as his fingers overlapped Aoba’s, his breath a nervous flicker against Aoba’s skin as he licked his lips.

Maybe he was afraid of storms, Aoba thought as he noticed the clouds rolling in over the mountaintops.

Which only made things worse as he waited for Ren to return.

Scattered pine needles crunched underfoot as he stood, bugs and small lizards scuttling away as he ventured toward the outer clearing of the campsite. Thunder rumbled once, deep and distance, the electric charge in the air making the fine hairs on Aoba’s arms stand on end.

"Ren," he called out, hands cupped to his mouth. "Ren, are you out there?"

It was a dumb question. Of course Ren was out there, somewhere. The specifics were the mystery.

As the sun started to set, Ren had mumbled something about finding extra kindling, the bright butterscotch yellow of his eyes glancing up to the sky and then to the forest floor. Aoba had nodded in agreement, offered to get the cookware set out in preparation of the fire, promising a dinner of hot dogs and cooked beans, with s’mores for dessert.

The smile Ren had given him was wobbly and weak, like something was unwell with his stomach.

That was the last Aoba had seen of him.

After dialing Ren and getting no signal again and again, the clouds above purpling like bruises as the sun sank behind the horizon, Aoba rummaged through one of the bigger packs they’d brought. He pulled from it a heavy parka and a kerosene lamp, tugging the former on before lighting the latter. The flame flickered dimly for a moment as he zipped up the front of the parka, stuffing a granola bar and a compass into his pocket for good measure.

Once he was sure the lamp wouldn’t die, he set off on foot. He headed in the straightest line he could, checked his direction against the compass, pausing every few hundred yards to call out. His voice grew hoarse and rough the darker it got, and he cursed himself for not bringing along water as well.

He was drenched in both nervous sweat and thoughts of worry by the time the first few droplets of rain spattered his cheeks.

Maybe Ren didn’t want to be found. He’d been fidgety since before they left, murmuring more to himself than Aoba that the conditions weren’t ideal. That there could be a storm, that the moon would be full. He rubbed at his arm when Aoba laughed and slapped his back, asking if the moon was anything to be afraid of.

Aoba had insisted they go anyway as a way to kick off the start of summer break, the start of their life free of high school. It seemed better than staying cooped up at Gram’s with the door half open at all times, as per her rules.

And now Ren was gone and the thunder was closer, and Aoba’s lamp gave a flicker to say things could get worse, and probably would. Then they did.

The shuffling crunch of leaves crushed under moving mass met Aoba’s ears, and he lifted his lantern to illuminate the direction it came from. Night was nearly in full swing, and in the darkness of the woods he could see nothing before him but underbrush and the hollowed out trunk of an old tree.

It was probably a dead body that made the noise. God, maybe even two dead bodies.

"Who’s there?" Aoba demanded, shaking the lantern. The light guttered for a second. Bad idea. "You better not try anything, you hear?"

Wow, very intimidating, Aoba thought. Empty threats and a dying lantern, didn’t get much better than that. Maybe it is would be scared if it had all the brains of an acorn.

Whatever it was, it stirred minimally within the hollow of the tree trunk, curling in on itself, shrinking. It was dark and without detail, nothing but mass as Aoba took a slow, uneasy step forward. It could be an injured animal, he told himself. Something sick and weak he could help.

"Hey," he called, softer than he had before. "Are you okay? You hurt?"

The thing within the stump could no longer curl smaller, and its shoulders squared tensely. It’s fur was dark and glossy, and its ears gave a small twitch before radaring toward Aoba’s voice. Some kind of canine, Aoba thought as he watched its ears train on him. He quickly tried to recall if wolves had ever attacked anyone in the wild.

He was pretty sure they hadn’t. At least not around here.

Aoba continued to creep closer, his free hand rummaging through his pocket to grab the granola he’d stored there. He ripped into the packaging with his teeth, spitting the remnants away before offering it out to the canine, waving it slowly.

"You hungry, boy?" he asked.

The light of the lamp caught the animal’s eyes as it looked to him in response.

Butterscotch yellow.

Aoba’s breath caught sharp in his throat as his muscles tensed, adrenaline spiking through his body as it hammered out what to do next. Run, he was supposed to run, because what he’s found wasn’t real, couldn’t be real.

Not with those animal ears and human eyes. Not with those rows of teeth meant for biting and tearing, a line of stalagmites and stalactites that he saw clearly glinting in the low light as the creature parted its lips.

His hand trembled, sweaty and slick, and the lamp slid from his fingers. It was all it took for the flame to extinguish itself, blackness all he saw- or didn’t see. A whimper almost made it past his lips as hot breath skimmed the knuckles of the hand still held out, and it was with a labored breath that he found himself speaking the name he had been calling since he set out.

"Ren?"


	2. Chapter 2

Aoba was sure of two things. One, what he had found couldn't be real, not with its human eyes and lupine features, and two, he very much needed to scream, but seemed to have forgotten how. Instead he was stuck like a deer before a predator, eyes wide and unseeing as it did jack shit to make a break for it.

He waited for impact, for an attack. For those sharp teeth to sink into his flesh, for the weight of the creature to pin him to the ground. His blood boiled with fear as the hot breath of the beast puffed against his hand.

He was about to die, and now that he was fresh out of high school, he wouldn't even get his own yearbook page.  


His body gave its first twitch in what felt like hours when something wet and warm slid over his fingers. Nervous, white hot energy zipped up his arm and down into his stomach. Teeth scraped over his fingertips, lips brushing over the skin. His entire hand trembled when the beast nosed against the granola he'd so stupidly offered when he thought he'd found something harmless.

There was a crunch, and then a clean break. Part of him was sure it was one of his fingers, the lack of pain, of even the slightest sensation, a sure sign of his body going into shock. He listened to the beast chew his finger, winced when it bit off another.

Only it still wasn't hurting, and when his hand twitched, each finger seemed to be intact.

When he dared to look down, squinting through the darkness, he found his hand unharmed with no sign of teeth or blood or bone. The granola was another story. All that was left of it was the silver glint of the inner foil, the bar itself gone.

It drifted from Aoba's shaking fingers and came to rest of the forest floor with a soft crinkle.

Aoba's breathe rattled shallow in his chest as he drew his hand back, hugging it to himself as though it had been bitten after all. Rain drizzled light above him, clung to his lashes and dampened his skin. He stared with eyes that didn't entirely see at the beast before him, or at least what he could make out of it.

His voice caught in the back of his throat when the clouds parted, the light that shone from the moon silvery white. It painted what skin he could see on the beast pale, but it couldn't hide the hue of those eyes.

Eyes he'd recognize anywhere.

What he didn't recognize was the rest. The gleaming teeth with pinprick tips, the dark, sharp ears that were trained toward him. The thick fur that seemed to swallow up strips of skin. Hands that Aoba had known as gentle and strong now had nails that extended and curved, nearly hooked at the end.

When the beast stood, Aoba shrank back reflexively. He peered up at it as it rose to its full height. A height he knew was the same as Ren's, just as he knew the beast had the same eyes as him. As the beast reached for him, claws extended, Aoba inched back with a wince and closed his eyes tightly. The hold that settled on him was surprisingly gentle, barely gripping his upper arms. He was shaken lightly, grounded back to reality.

When he dared to open his eyes, the beast was looking at him with bright concern, searching his expression. Its ears were pinned flat to its head in apology, teeth barely showing in the frown that quirked its lips down.

"Ren?" Aoba asked weakly.

"Aoba," the beast answered. His voice was a rasping growl, a sound that sent fear only prey knows racing down Aoba's spine. He gave a shudder at the noise, knees locking for a moment before deciding that was entirely the opposite of what they had originally intended, giving way like jelly beneath Aoba's weight.

Ren's grip tightened as Aoba sagged forward, clutched him to his chest. He took Aoba's weight upon himself, keeping both of them upright. His heart was thunderously loud as the side of Aoba's face came to rest against his chest. Aoba almost thought it was the beat of his own heart at first.

"Who did this?" Aoba asked. It seemed the only question he could ask, and his hands came up to grip at Ren's shirt, damp with drizzle, as he waited for an answer.

The pause that followed was endless, and it dragged terrible and long until Aoba readjusted his grip, found his feet steady beneath himself again, taking his own weight as he struggled to stand.

"No one," Ren said. "No one did this to me."

"Don't-- don't be ridiculous, Ren," Aoba said, his voice leaving him in a manic sort of gasp. “This sort of thing doesn’t just happen.”

“I never implied it _just_ happened.”

“So this is normal?” Aoba asked. The words came out a haughty, disbelieving scoff. “Sometimes you change into this thing and you want to call this normal?”

Ren sighed, long and drawn out. Tired. He looked like he didn’t want to talk about it.

Aoba studied his features in the dark, anxious and avoidant, hang dog to say the least. In the back of his head, fear prickled. The fear that whatever had done this to Ren was still around, that a single too-loud word could bring it back to attack the both of them. That Ren was putting up a facade to keep the both of them calm enough to escape.

They had to get out of here, Aoba knew that much. Taking one of Ren’s hands- paws?- he didn’t know what to call them anymore, he tugged hard back toward the direction he’d come from. The fur was softer against his palm than he expected, slipped slightly until he gripped harder as he pulled back and started to run.

Low-hanging branches and dry leaves alike scratched against Aoba’s cheeks as he ran, and he held up an arm to protect his face as best he could. The drizzle had turned to rain now, splashing over him and soaking his hair. The ground beneath them turned muddy and slick, his sneakers slipping as they searched for traction on the forest floor.

When his foot caught under an unearthed root, his entire body pitched forward in a flash. Before he could so much as think of which way was up, Ren’s solid arms had caught him, scooping him up like a bride and cradling him close to his broad chest. He took off at twice the speed Aoba had been running, swift and sure-footed as he moved.

Aoba still wasn’t sure which way was up, and his body instinctively stilled in Ren’s arms, heart beating rabbit-fast as the darkened woods passed him by. They seemed to arrive back at the campsite entirely too soon, and it was as Ren set him on his feet that Aoba’s body finally began to work again, though his mind was still stuck back in the clearing.

He knelt in front of the tent as rain continued to pelt him, fingers cold and stiff as he unzipped the door flap, his shoes quickly discarded as he wormed his way into the relative dryness within. He struggled more with his parka, the article heavy and cumbersome, his attention too scattered to work the buttons. In the blackness of the tent he found the task impossible, his breath coming in short, anxious pants.

It was Ren spoke that he remembered buttons weren’t his biggest problem.

“Aoba,” he said, voice quiet and gravelly.

Aoba looked back at him, teeth working their way into his bottom lip. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to think. He couldn’t see much of Ren, but there was already an image in his mind’s eye, imprinted strong and refusing to leave, the image of a beast.

“Stay here,” Ren continued, and a twig broke beneath his foot as he shifted his weight, drew back and looked toward the woods from where they’d come.

“Don’t you ‘stay here’ me,” Aoba said, quick and panicked. “It’s cold and dark and there’s a storm. And you-” he cut himself off, swallowed the choked sob before it could pass his lips. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

Ren didn’t respond, looked to shrink back further into the darkness, his appearance nothing more than a silhouette. 

“Please do your best to get dry,” Ren said.

He was bounding off before Aoba could tell him not to leave, nothing but the noise of crashing underbrush and branches. 

Left alone, Aoba’s thoughts finally began to reassemble themselves. They came in short, confused bursts as he tried again to work his parka off. He wished it wasn't so dark, wished he could see what he was doing, but the single lamp they had was still in the woods where he'd dropped it.

Smooth move, Seragaki.

He settled for pulling the parka over his head still-buttoned, tossing it out of the tent once it was off. He stripped off his soaked socks and pants next, his underwear following suit. His shirt was another casualty, doused with fear-sweat instead of rain. He didn’t think much of leaving it all out in the poor weather, he'd deal with it in the morning.

He grabbed one of their packs and rifled through it, pulling from it a towel he’d brought along in case they’d decided to swim. He mopped it over himself in a hurry, cleaning his arms and legs, dabbing at his hair and getting the worst of the water from it. He tossed the towel in the corner once he was marginally dry, rummaging through the pack again in search of clothes.

Pulling out the first thing he touched, he found it to be Ren’s shirt. Oversized and broken in, it smelled faintly of dryer sheets and sweet detergent. Aoba pulled it over his head, let it swallow him up, draping over his body and skirting his thighs. Grabbing a pair of underwear next, knowing full well they weren’t his but far past giving a shit, he slipped them over his legs and up to his hips, snapping the elastic against his skin.

Pants, Aoba decided quickly, were too much trouble for his shaken state. He grabbed for a rolled up pair of socks instead, thick and woolen, warm against his legs as he pulled them on. He’d thought they were silly at first when Ren recommended getting them, up to his knees and a dark shade of green, but now he was infinitely grateful that he’d listened.

Mostly dry and semi-clothed, he began to unfurl his sleeping bag. He rearranged its positioning four times before haplessly crawling into it, curling on his side and wrapping his arms around himself. This was great. Absolutely friggin’ fantastic. Here he was alone in the woods during a storm, his boyfriend off in the elements doing God knew what.

Ren hadn’t even said he’d come back, only for Aoba to stay. Aoba sniffed to himself once, brows knitting as his lips pushed themselves into a pout. He could handle this, he decided. He was an adult now, after all. He didn’t have to lie anymore when it came to inputting his date of birth when browsing less savory websites. It wasn’t as though there was an axe murderer in the woods. At least, he didn’t think there was.

When he spotted the soft glow of light coming toward the tent, the axe murderer scenario became entirely more real. He curled in tighter on himself, barely breathing and eyes wide as the muddy splash of footsteps neared, the light growing brighter until it was directly outside the tent. His heart lurched into his throat when the zipped door of the tent was tugged open, and the light that streamed in temporarily blinded him as his eyes struggled to adjust to the change.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Aoba could make out as his vision adjusted to the sudden light was Ren’s concerned face, and in spite of the sharp teeth and feral eyes he didn’t understand, relief welled in Aoba’s chest. Held in Ren’s hand was the lamp Aoba had dropped earlier, the flame once again flickering. Sitting up, Aoba grabbed for his discarded towel and handed it quickly to Ren, their gazes meeting for a sliver of a second before Aoba was looking away into a dark corner of the tent.

As Ren crawled into the tent and began to dry off, neither of them spoke. A silent sort of pact had cropped up between the two of them, an unspoken agreement that now wasn’t the time for words. Aoba hugged his knees to his chest as he watched Ren rub his limbs down with the towel. To say the sight of him, with fur and ears and an accouterment of animalistic changes, was uncanny was an understatement. 

It was Ren, though. His Ren.

He should speak, he knew. What he didn’t know was where to start, what to say. Words refused to assemble themselves in a timely or sensible manner, and when he finally spoke, what came out was watery and weak.

"Does it hurt?"

Ren's ears twitched at the question, and when he shook his head, droplets of water flew from his hair.

"No. This state causes me no pain."

Aoba's shoulders sagged at the answer, a tension he hadn't realized was there leaving him. Good. That was the most important thing, that Ren wasn't hurting.

The next most important thing was figuring out what in the hot hell had happened to cause this. Ren seemed to still be sticking to his story that this wasn’t a surprise for him, and the longer Aoba considered it, the more it appeared to be the truth. Even with his… alterations, he was composed and poised, voice deep and words enunciated, tone honey warm and smooth. No sign that he was fearful of an outside force.

Irritation twinged in Aoba’s chest. Everyone had their secrets, sure, but this was hardly something to keep under wraps. In the face of his exhaustion, fried nerves, and a shaken mind, Aoba’s anger at the secrecy of it all overwhelmed his tongue and forced him to speak.

"So this is par for the course for you? Totally the norm?" Aoba asked, bordering on a sarcastic housewife hiss.

"Yes, Aoba," Ren said, and he looked like he felt as though he deserved the venom. "This is not an irregularity for me."

"And you never thought about, y'know, bringing it up with me? Maybe dropping a hint or two? Throwing me a bone?"

Ren's gaze darted away, and there was a movement to his fur. It was bristling, Aoba realized, Ren's hackles raising.

"It is hardly an easy anomaly to address. Were you to believe me, I thought it might cause fear."

"I wouldn't have been afraid," Aoba insisted.

"You were at first," Ren said. He was using his corrective tone, the one that said he wasn't mad, but that Aoba was wrong.

When Aoba opened his mouth to argue, Ren spoke over him.

"I could smell it."

Aoba paused at that. He felt suddenly like there was a small part of him still back in the forest, still scared. 

“I’m sorry,” Aoba mumbled.

“I do not think there is a need to apologize. Your reaction was natural.”

Aoba nodded, less out of agreement and more out of a loss as to what to say. He chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully as he let his chin rest on his knees. With danger seeming to be a nonfactor, the adrenaline in his body was ebbing, the effects of what he’d been through setting in and slowing his mind.

“Can I touch you?” Aoba eventually asked softly, a roll of thunder outside nearly covering his words.

It was all still unreal to him, like a mirage, some kind of crazy trick of the light. Any second he’d wake up from this dream, or see that this was all some hallucination from accidentally eating an appetizing-looking toadstool. Boyfriends didn’t suddenly turn into werewolves, and they certainly didn’t look this handsome if they were. Werewolves were supposed to be twisted and contorted things, stuck in a shift and all ugly features and behaviors.

A flash of movement caught Aoba’s eye, and he watched it carefully, a back and forth swoosh. One, two, three times. A wagging tail.

“Of course, Aoba,” was Ren’s answer. He almost sounded excited by the thought.

Easing forward onto his hands and knees, Aoba crawled across the short distance between them. He sat himself behind Ren, gently took the towel that had been set aside in hand, and ruffled it through Ren’s hair. He took care of the worst of the damp, careful of the new set of ears there, gingerly dabbing at them, rolling the thin skin between his thumb and forefinger.

When he cast the towel aside, he finger-combed Ren’s hair free of tangles. He hesitated at the base of Ren’s ears, fingertips twitching with interest. With an audible swallow he grazed the tips, froze for a moment when they flicked at the touch. He let his fingers skim along the furry curve. He tested their flexibility, turned one inside out, then the other.

When Ren turned his head to toss a questioning look over his shoulder, Aoba withdrew his hands to cover his mouth, stifling a chuckle. 

So much for a big, bad beast. Ren was more like a dorky puppy.

With a shake of his head, Ren’s ears turned rightside out again. Aoba gave a silent apology by scritching at the base of one like he would a normal dog, and he smiled to himself as Ren cocked his head to lean into the touch.

“C’mon,” Aoba said lightly. “I can’t get a good look at you when your back is to me. Let me see those chompers of yours.”

Ren shifted at that, his hackles rising again for the briefest second. But another good scratch was all it took for him to capitulate, turning his broad body around half-clumsily in the small space of the tent until he was sitting cross-legged in front of Aoba.

His eyes were keener, sharper than they usually were. They were hard to look at, harder to look away from. Aoba brought his hands up to cup Ren's face, cradling his jaws as he turned Ren's head from side to side. He skimmed his thumb over Ren's lips, dry and chapped, and gingerly eased them apart. The exposed teeth weren't as needle-sharp as Aoba recalled, instead long but dulled to a certain flatness at the end. They were frightening and beautiful at once, with all the allure of a poisonous flower.

Aoba let his hands drift down Ren's arms next, the skin familiar, the fur that crept up to Ren's elbow not. Aoba took Ren's forearm and turned it this way and that, ruffled the fur in the wrong direction only to smooth it back down.

He examined Ren's hand closely, traced where the tendons would usually be, where the lines of his palm were. Now it was nothing but dark fur, still damp from the outdoors. Aoba had to admit he was a little disappointed. He’d been hoping for pink jellybean paw pads, soft and squeezable. In their place he played with Ren’s claws instead, flexing each one individually, brushing from them dried mud and lightly touching the curved tips.

Ren’s tail wagged steadily on, swooshing against the tent floor. 

“What does it feel like?" Aoba asked. “This whole wolfy thing.”

"It feels right," Ren admitted. "Like I was meant to be this way, always."

Aoba ran his fingers through a tuft of fur, scratched it lightly with his fingers.

"Is it that different? From being normal, I mean."

Ren's tail wagged once as he nodded quickly.

"I know what to do when I'm like this. I have instincts to guide me, bettered senses I can rely on. Like when you came to me in the woods and offered me food. Even if I hadn't known it was you, I could smell your kindness. I could smell your trustworthiness."

Goosebumps rippled along Aoba's forearms as the tips of his ears warmed.

"How can you say those things so casually, it's embarrassing," he muttered. He pretended, as he usually did, not to like it.

He liked it a lot.

Ren could probably smell that.

“You really are something else sometimes,” Aoba said, bringing Ren’s hand up. He nuzzled into the fur and breathed once, took in its earthen wet scent and the touch of musk.

Once Aoba let Ren’s hand fall away, his gaze drifted lower, stopping below Ren’s belly button where the skin ceased to be, and the rest of the beast began. No pants to be seen. Aoba was less sure about touching all that. Sure, they’d been going steady for a while now, but all their fooling around had been above the belt for fear of Granny’s wrath.

Well, except that one time where he’d ended up rutting against Ren’s thigh, and Ren was so stupidly good with the way he used his tongue when he kissed and how his hands knew just how to hold Aoba that he’d cum in his pants.

God, that had been embarrassing. He liked to think it didn’t count, because Ren’s hands had been very firmly gripping his ass, even though Aoba wanted them down the front of his jeans instead. He wasn’t wearing jeans now, though. Neither was Ren. His heart stammered for a second.

“Are you satisfied, Aoba?” Ren asked, breaking the silence. He sounded very matter of fact, like it was a doctor’s examination.

“Uh, I guess,” Aoba said. He wasn’t, not really. He was looking lower and noticing that Ren’s anatomy was now similar to a Ken doll’s around the crotch.

“You do not sound entirely convincing,” Ren said.

Aoba waved his hands dismissively, but now that he’d noticed it, it was hard to get off his mind.

“It’s nothing, I was just thinking,” Aoba said vaguely.

Ren didn’t look like he was buying it. He sniffed lightly at the air, eyes narrowing as he looked Aoba over. Aoba felt very much like prey in that moment, cornered and sized up, vulnerabilities being deduced. Ugh. He was going to have to own up to this, wasn’t he? Lying to Ren had always been a useless endeavor even when he wasn’t all beast-mode. Plus, this was his boyfriend. If he could ask questions about a dick, who better could there be to ask?

“So like,” Aoba began, and he frowned when no words came forward. “Like...”

Ren arched an eyebrow, sniffed the air again.

“Do you not have any junk when you’re like this? I mean, I’m not tryin’ to gawk or anything, but it doesn’t look like there’s much there, y’know?”

For once it was Ren’s turn to be at a loss for words, his cheeks touched with pink. Aoba didn’t need animal super-sense to pick up on his embarrassment. 

“The anatomy of a wolf is decidedly different from that of a human,” Ren said. 

“Yeah, but it’s not like wolves reproduce through osmosis,” Aoba pointed out.

“It’s not my intention to have you assume that,” Ren said. “Only that certain aspects have changed.”

“So you have a dog dick?” Aoba blurted.

Fuck. His exhaustion was getting to him now, breaking down his word filter and letting whatever dumb shit sprang to mind out of his mouth.

Ren’s eyes went blank as the question sunk in, and the steady noise of his tail dragging back and forth against the tent floor stopped.

“My anatomy is in line with that of a wolf in regards to those matters, yes,” he eventually said.

“Oh, well. That settles that, then,” Aoba said.

He didn’t actually know what wolf anatomy was like when it came to junk. He had a feeling thoughts about it would keep him up all night. He decided to pretend that wouldn’t be the case.

Their conversation petered off naturally from there, weariness overcoming them both. It wasn’t long after Aoba wriggled back into his sleeping bag that Ren joined him, though the confines were tight. His body molded to Aoba’s as they both laid on their sides, his furry arms sneaking around Aoba’s waist, pulling him closer, tighter. His legs tickled against the back of Aoba’s as they fitted to him.

Aoba was torn once again as they lay in the dark, water pelting the tent and wind whipping around them. One part of him was worn and weary, wanting nothing more than to sleep. The other part was still questioning and curious.

It wasn’t done exploring.


	4. Chapter 4

The part of Aoba that wasn’t done touching was more awake, stronger, and more impossible to ignore than the part that wanted to sleep. Aoba gave in to temptation as he rolled over to face Ren. He brought his hands up to rest against Ren's chest, pressing lightly. Ren's skin was warmer than any human Aoba had felt, feverishly hot to the touch.

The skin on skin contact was a comfort during the storm.

When Aoba brushed his lips against Ren's with all the lightness of air, there was a hint of honey sweet oats on his breath. It was the first time they'd kissed all day, and that was much too long by Aoba's standards. He wanted to make up for lost time.

He pressed his lips to Ren's again, tongue flicking out to soothe their chapped texture. Ren's canine caught lightly against Aoba's lips. It hurt in a good way. A way Aoba wanted to feel again.

When Ren tried to apologize, Aoba quieted him with another kiss. He expected for Ren to submit easily to his will, but found himself surprised as Ren returned the kiss with more fervor than Aoba had served him, pressing their lips together with a hunger he’d never shown Aoba before. His hand came up to cradle the back of Aoba’s neck, claws pricking the sensitive skin as they held him still.

Ren tended to forever err on the side of reservation, asking permission, getting clearance. Taking initiative suited him, Aoba decided, letting himself be held. His lips parted when Ren's did the same, holding back a whine as their tongues slid together, wet and slick. Ren’s response was a throaty, appreciative growl.

With Ren's claws kneading gently at the nape of his neck, Aoba's thoughts fogged over. He liked this, he wanted this; the claws that barely scraped over his skin were nothing, the fur that pressed against him more a blessing than a curse. He found his stomach twisting sweetly as their kisses continued, his dick hardening until it strained against his underwear.

He hoped he wasn't going to have a repeat performance of last time. The fear of it had him pulling back, panting roughly as he caught his breath.

"Hold on a sec," Aoba said, fingers curling against Ren's chest.

Ren's hold on his neck loosened unsurely, and he heard Ren's lips part, hesitation hanging in the air before he spoke.

"Is this too much, Aoba?"

Aoba snorted, letting his head butt lightly against Ren's chin.

"As if. I mean, I gotta be real with you. The two of us in the woods, no one to interrupt? I was kind of banking on this. But I don't want to be the only one enjoying myself, you know?"

He sensed Ren nodding in the dark.

"Let me assure you that I am also, as you have put it, enjoying myself,” Ren said.

Aoba flicked his tongue over his teeth thoughtfully at that, debating wriggling closer until their hips were nudged against one another. Seeming to sense the thought, Ren gently drew Aoba nearer, closing the small gap that had kept them apart.

Something thick and hard pressed against Aoba through his underwear, and he gasped softly. Wow, yeah. So Ren did still have a dick after all. Aoba's cheeks flushed as he thought about it, wondered what it'd feel like in his hand.

Really, really nice, he decided.

"Can I still touch your, uh, wolfy bits?" Aoba asked bluntly. Dancing around it seemed a lost cause at this point.

"You have permission to touch anywhere that pleases you," Ren assured.

With that, Aoba let one hand drift down Ren's chest, skimming his stomach and dropping lower. He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as he reached down. His hand gave an anticipatory, excited sort of twitch.

It twitched again when it came into contact with Ren's dick, the flesh hard and flushed with heat as Aoba's fingertips ghosted over the full length. A growl, louder and fuller than before, rose in Ren's throat, rumbling low as the thunder outside. The noise shuddered through Aoba.

"Is this okay?" Aoba asked.

His response came in the roll of Ren's hips against his palm, the nuzzling of Ren's nose against his hair.

Aoba wrapped his hand tentatively around Ren's length, and it was Ren's turn to twitch in anticipation then. And it wasn't his hand that did so. Aoba could his hear himself swallowing in his ears, his heartbeat surging along with his blood pressure and nerves. He thinned his lips in a concentrated pout as he squeezed gently.

He didn't set a pace so much as he explored, testing his hold on Ren. He pumped slowly, friction easy as his hold, fingers curled loosely. There soon seemed to be somehow more than before, his wrist working harder to fully take his grip along Ren’s length. 

He vaguely recalled something about sheaths from eighth grade biology. Right. That was a canine thing, wasn't it? It was difficult to think about, too scientific and logical when he didn’t feel like much of either. He acted on instinct, coupled with the experience he had of getting himself off.

It was less nerve-wracking than he expected, the rush of hormones moving through him quieting his fears. He took his time to focus on the smaller details he never took notice of when pleasuring himself. The pulse and throb of the flesh in his hand, the raised ridges of veins. The slickness of the precum that leaked from the head, and how it wetted his palm.

It was difficult not to touch himself in turn, and he batted Ren’s hand aside when he tried to. He liked the wait, liked holding out until the crave for release was so much, so all encompassing that he could think of nothing else. It was a certain sort of high he thrived off of, and he wasn’t going to let himself lose it so soon.

When Ren’s lips moved from his lips to his jaw, teeth nipping and scraping against his skin as they made for his neck, Aoba keened. His hand faltered at the sensation, eyes closing as the pressure increased, Ren’s teeth clamping hard enough to nearly break the skin as he latched onto the crook of Aoba’s neck.

“Easy there, boy,” Aoba breathed out, slightly shaken. 

He wasn’t sure how much of this was Ren, and how much was the beast. He wasn’t sure if there were two sides of that coin, or if it all merged and blended together, a single mentality. Stopping to ask hardly seemed feasible, especially as Ren responded to the halt in affections by urging his hips up to force himself against Aoba’s palm.

Aoba hardly registered the movement before Ren was rolling him onto his back, the bulk of his weight pressed against Aoba, teeth still holding his neck. Aoba’s hand retracted in surprise as his head spun and adjusted to the change, and he drew in a startled gasp as Ren’s hips continued to move, humping against him hard and needy. Hot saliva from Ren’s open mouth ran down his skin, and he shivered as he debated how to get Ren off him.

“Ren, puppy,” he started, and Ren slowed for a fraction of a second, something barely noticeable. “I need you to ease up for a sec, okay?”

The thrusting slowed, but didn’t stop. The pressure on his neck eased, but didn’t leave. Right. Time for a new approach.

“Oi, bad dog,” Aoba snapped, bringing his hand up to glance off the back of Ren’s head. “Knock it off.”

When Ren drew back, panting lightly, his teeth shone white as his tongue nervously darted over them. His ears pinned back, and Aoba could hear the sweep of Ren’s tail as it tried to tuck itself between his legs.

“My apologies, Aoba,” he said. “I’m afraid I gave in to my instincts more than I had anticipated.”

“You got that right,” Aoba said, rubbing the sore spot of his neck where Ren’s teeth had been.

Ren seemed to get smaller at that, broad shoulders dropping as he eased back, most of his weight on his knees that caged in Aoba’s hips at either side. The rest of his weight came to settle on Aoba’s hips, pressing against the erection straining beneath his underwear. Aoba’s breath left him in a shuddering gasp.

“Okay, so,” Aoba said as he tried to regain his composure. It wasn’t coming to him easily. “I need you to get off me for a sec.”

Ren obliged, but his expression remained ashamed and avoidant. Aoba propped himself up on his elbows for a moment, casting around to find where he’d flung his pack. He carefully pushed Ren off him and wriggled free of the sleeping bag, crawling over to the pack, unzipping the smaller pockets and rifling through them, fingers stumbling over sun screen and aloe vera before locating a small bottle of lube.

While he certainly hadn’t planned on his boyfriend turning out to be a werewolf, he’d very much planned on getting laid and was damn sure he’d be prepared should the opportunity present itself. 

Setting the bottle down for a moment, Aoba went to work on unzipping their sleeping bag, unfolding it so it spanned across the floor of the tent. When he went to grab the bottle again and Ren cleared his throat, lips parting as he spoke.

“Please, let me be the one to prepare you.”

Aoba’s cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment. God, why couldn’t this be like some cheap, free online porn where everything was taken care of offscreen without fuss or mess. Or eyes on him. He was distinctly and uncomfortably aware of Ren’s gaze.

“While the thought is sweet,” Aoba started as he lay on his back. “I kind of think those claws could be a problem.”

The change in Ren’s expression said that he’d forgotten about the alteration to his hands. He did the bashful shoulder hunch again, and Aoba couldn’t help but smile even as his nerves lit up once more. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, he lifted his hips to slide them down his thighs, sighing in relief as his dick bobbed gently as it was no longer confined. A drop of precum dripped onto his belly, and he let his head tip back as he shivered.

“If you want to help, you can start by not staring,” Aoba said as he popped the lid on the lube, letting his legs fall apart. He glanced to Ren to see if he’d listen, and found that he wasn’t. His eyes were dark, blown, and focused, gold barely rimming them.

The way his ears flattened and nose wrinkled as the chemical, strawberry scent of the lube was a quiet victory for Aoba. Served Ren right, he decided as he drizzled it over his fingers and recapped the bottle. He stilled as he set it aside, thoughts choking as he realized what was to come next. He tried to shove his embarrassment into the back of his mind, somewhere dark and quiet as he rubbed his lube-slicked fingers against his entrance.

He tensed at first, body put on edge by the foreign sensation. He bit down lightly on his own tongue to distract himself, nearly drawing blood when he tentatively pushed a finger in. Good was not the feeling that immediately came to mind. Weird was the frontrunner, followed closely by uneasy.

He was careful with his movements, sliding the finger in and out, feeling himself contracting again and again around it until it was less foreign to him. He added a second finger then, his back giving a small, jerky arch before he settled down. His dick twitched, and he did his best to ignore it as he continued to work himself open, slow and steady until the discomfort was turning to something else, something heated and needy.

“C’mere, boy,” Aoba said as he withdrew his fingers and fumbled to uncap the lid again.

When Ren moved closer, Aoba could hear the low pant of his breath, saw the pink of his tongue past his parted lips. Aoba swallowed around the lump in his throat that held back his words as he uncapped the lube again, letting it drip into his palm. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Ren’s dick as his hand sought it out in the dark. One glance and he knew his bravado would desert him.

He shivered as his fingers grazed their way along Ren’s dick, slipping around him. Aoba moved his hand in slow, sure strokes, breath catching when he grip became enough to truly feel Ren’s shape. It seemed too hot in his hand, fleshy and pulsing. The swell of it was different than that of his own dick, the end tapered as he ran his thumb over it.

Aoba shivered as he paused, able to feel the tension and restraint as Ren kept himself still. Aoba let out an almost gasp when Ren’s claws found their way under his chin, barely resting on his skin as he tipped Aoba’s face up. When their lips met, it was with a gentility that Aoba didn’t expect. There was no pressure, no force, simply affection.

When Ren’s tongue ran along Aoba’s lips, he parted them in invitation. Ren’s kisses turned open-mouth and interested. His tongue slipped over Aoba’s, glanced off his teeth as he tasted him. It wasn’t long before Ren’s self control began to wane, lapping eagerly at Aoba’s mouth in a way that was nothing short of animalistic, muffling the quiet moans that Aoba made in turn.

As his blood heated, Aoba’s hand began to move again, hormones clouding his insecurities and fear. It was when Ren bucked his hips up in a shallow thrust against his hold that Aoba’s mind cleared enough to move on from their groping and kissing. He broke from Ren with an apologetic sigh, a thin strand of saliva snapping between them as they parted. Grabbing the towel he’d discarded before, he wiped his hands clean before surveying the floor of the tent, sucking in an unsure breath.

“Right,” he mumbled to no one in particular. He glanced to Ren after that, found his eyes bright and fixated.

God, this was hard to think about. At least Ren had instincts to fall back on and guide him. Aoba had... jack shit, excluding the porn he’d consumed ever since he found out how to access it. None of the scenarios he’d seen applied to their situation in the least. Maybe he’d tune into Ren’s instincts as well, figure out what he wanted.

Doggy style, Aoba imaged, had to be pretty far up the list. He dropped to his hands and knees, shoulders hunching and skin burning with embarrassment. He’d hardly taken a breath in when he felt Ren on him, mounting him without a second of hesitation. His weight was heavy and solid, and Aoba’s elbows nearly gave way at the suddenness of it.

He’d nearly recovered from the shock of it when Ren’s hands came to grip his hips, claws pricking his flesh as Ren folded over him, his broad chest bearing down on Aoba’s back. The first thrust of his hips had Aoba gasping in surprise, the movement jerky and unguided, his cock brushing against Aoba without penetrating him. Ren repeated the motion a few times before a growl of irritation left his throat, the sound near to Aoba’s ear, the breath of it hot against his skin bringing goosebumps to the surface.

“Hey, easy boy,” Aoba said softly, stumbling over a stutter. Moving his weight to one hand, he reached back, thinning his lips in concentration as he fumbled for Ren’s cock, fingers flinching when they first found it before he clumsily guided Ren into place.

Ren rocked forward without warning, driving hard and deep into Aoba. The sensation was immediately overwhelming, a searing sort of stretching and fullness that made Aoba’s muscles spasm as he cried out sharply. He brought his hand back beneath him to support himself, a tremor running down his forearms and into his fingers as he struggled to accommodate Ren.

Tears formed at the corners of his eyes as his fingers curled, grasping the blanket beneath him until his knuckles were white and numb. His body jolted in response as Ren pulled back from him, the emptiness a mixed blessing, relief and longing mixed into one. Again Ren snapped forward, and again Aoba felt himself opened, filled to breaking point as pleasure and pain in equal parts flooded through his nerves.

Ren’s breath puffed against his neck as he started a steady pace, a quick and shallow rocking of his hips as he nosed at the nape of Aoba’s neck. With the hair pushed aside, his tongue lathed over the spot, lapping up the dewy sweat on Aoba’s skin. His tongue was soon replaced by his teeth, almost gentle at first, mouthing tentatively before they found their grip, holding Aoba’s body still before he hastened his pace, bucking against him until he was deeper than ever before, barely pulling out before thrusting in once more.

The noises that left Aoba were foreign to his own ears, needy mewls and sharp, breathless cries that hitched mid-utterance. He gulped in air as his entire frame trembled, mind hazy and lost to the sensation of being filled again and again. When his arms gave out, it was almost a relief, his body sagging forward until his cheek was pressed to the blanket, mouth opened as he moaned and hips held up by Ren’s hands, his claws leaving red welts as they raked over his skin.

“Ahh- Ren. Ren, _please_ ,” he moaned, unable to force out anything else. He didn’t know what he wanted, if it was more, if it was less. All he knew was _that_ he wanted.

He keened and shut his eyes tight as one of Ren’s hands moved from gripping his hips, sliding under his and taking Aoba's flushed and hardened cock in hand. More. Aoba definitely wanted more, he knew that now. He arched into Ren's palm as he was gripped, slid against the dark fur there. Precum dripped from the head of his cock as it twitched at the attention.

Aoba found himself rocking against Ren's hand, back arching when he pulled away only to meet Ren's thrusts. His body instinctively tensed each time Ren withdrew, desperately trying to keep him in. He whimpered with each loss, moaned with each thrust. 

Aoba was dimly aware that his mouth was moving, that his own voice was leaving him, however hoarse and tired it was against his own ears. He couldn't pick up on the words, didn't think they were even sentences. Just fractured pleas and begging strung together without coherency. Ren's answer to his cries were ragged growls as he continued to hold Aoba's neck between his teeth, tethered to him as he mercilessly fucked him, his hand stroking Aoba in a frantic, artless rhythm. 

It was with a full-body shudder that bordered on a convulsion that Aoba came, body wracked with fire-heat and fried nerves. His chest tightened at the same time as the tightly-wound coil in his belly came undone, ropes of white spurting from the head of his cock, running over the fur that enveloped it and spattering his abdomen as well. His twitched and jerked as the aftershock of orgasm shook him, unable to so much as open his eyes as Ren continued.

Aoba’s body went slack despite his best efforts, overstimulated and exhausted. Ren’s hand moved back to his hips to hold them up, and Aoba’s hole continued to tense around him again and again of its own accord. As he was stretched to breaking point, the realization that Ren wasn’t fully sheathed in him swam to the surface of Aoba’s addled mind. There was more, pressing insistently against him, a thick base he hadn’t noticed before.

It was with a slick pop that it entered him, and if he’d had the energy and wits about him, he would have cried out at the fullness, the near-splitting sensation as it slid into him. White edged the corners of his vision as he took it in, too weak to do anything aside from let out a weak, unsure sound. He waited for Ren to pull back, for the thickness of his base to leave, but Ren instead stilled, hunched over and panting.

His thrusts became shallow and labored, unable to pull himself from Aoba, locked within him. He let out a raspy growl as his hold on Aoba’s neck strengthened, giving a final, shuddering jerk of his hips as he came. He spilled hot and thick inside of Aoba, twitching and pulsing, giving him more and more. Aoba bit his lip at the sensation, toes curling and head spinning.

Aoba couldn’t think, couldn’t move. All he knew was the heat inside of him, and how much more was pouring into his body. It seemed too much, and his body agreed, entirely limp in response to the strain placed on it. He was only dimly aware of Ren’s hands keeping his hips up, and the relief of the teeth releasing his neck, replaced by warm breath and softly murmured words he couldn’t entirely hear.

Aoba whimpered softly as Ren’s grip softened, easing the both of them onto their sides until he was spooned up against Aoba’s back, lined up and still interlocked. Ren nuzzled softly at the nape of his neck, licked apologetically at the marks he’d left in the heat of passion. Aoba mustered the strength to squirm slightly, his shoulders pressing back into Ren’s chest as he waited for him to go soft inside him and pull out.

He waited, and waited, and when the fullness and heat remained inside of him, Aoba struggled to piece together enough words to form a question.

“Ren, why aren’t you--?” he started, only for Ren’s arms to wrap around his waist and hug him close.

“I’m sorry, Aoba,” Ren said. “In line with my anatomy, it’s not as easy for us to part as it would be if I were entirely human.”

“For us to part?” Aoba repeated dryly. 

Ren nodded against his neck, and Aoba made a mental look to google the shit out of how dog dicks worked for any future camping trips. He wasn’t about to be caught off guard again. For now he steeled himself for the wait ahead, holding on to the hazy, well-fucked state of his thoughts and the warmth of Ren’s body against his own as the storm continued on outside the tent.

He was dimly aware that he was starting to fall asleep when Ren nosed at him once more. He blinked back the fog of sleep and licked his lips, voice tired and nearly-gone when he spoke.

“Mm, what is it, Ren?”

“I’m going to pull out,” Ren said, soft and warning.

Aoba nodded his permission, breathe faltering as Ren made good on his word. The emptiness was immediate, the sound that met his ears slick. There was an immediate trickle that followed, the sensation foreign and spine-tingling. Aoba clenched fruitlessly, his body desperate to keep Ren’s cum within him. It was no use, and the trickle became a thin stream as Ren rolled him onto his back. Aoba didn’t realize he’d been crying until Ren’s hand came up to his face, a single claw gingerly tracing a drying tear track.

“I apologize for not having warned you,” Ren said.

Aoba raised a hand to push back his own sweat-matted bangs, struggled to focus on Ren’s face.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I just-- fuck,” he gasped, continuing to leak as he shifted. “Okay, maybe a little warning would be nice.”

Ren made a morose noise in the back of his throat, and his puppy dog eyes melted Aoba immediately. 

“Don’t you try that on me,” Aoba chided lightly, bringing his hand up to ruffle Ren’s hair between his ears.

Ren’s expression turned easy and complacent at the touch, a hint of his canines showing as he smiled. He ducked in close, tongue running along Aoba’s cheek once before Aoba sputtered, automatically squirming. An ache flared in his hips, and he winced as it spread throughout his body. Right. That romp had been kind of totally, incredibly, basically supernaturally intense. He wasn’t looking forward to how he’d be feeling in the morning.

For now he let himself stay in the moment, Ren tugging what he could of the opened sleeping bag over the both of them before his arms were wrapping around Aoba once again. Aoba settled into Ren’s hold, too weary and overworked to dwell on the fact that he was sticky with sweat and cum, muscles overworked to the point of nonfunctional. 

“Maybe next time,” Aoba said, smiling as Ren nipped affectionately at the shell of his ear, “we can camp in a hotel instead.”

“Anything for Aoba,” Ren said.

“And anything for you,” Aoba said in turn, and with that he was finally overcome by sleep, held safe by his boyfriend, werewolf or not.


End file.
